


Dinner, Doubts, and Dancing

by Sproid



Category: due South
Genre: Dancing, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproid/pseuds/Sproid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a lot that Fraser doesn’t understand about what’s going on, but he knows that professional boundaries have no place here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner, Doubts, and Dancing

The small table in Ray’s apartment isn’t really big enough for three people to sit around. It’s become a tradition that they’ll end up there on Friday evenings anyway though, eating Chinese take-out, because Meg and Fraser don’t want to cook, and Ray can’t. They make room by leaving work behind; on the hooks by the door, safely out of sight of their owners, Ray’s shoulder holster hangs next to the bold red and black of Meg’s and Fraser’s jackets. 

There’s a lot that Fraser doesn’t understand about what’s going on, but he knows that professional boundaries have no place here. 

If there was any doubt in his mind, Ray’s lazy sprawl removes it. His legs knock against theirs beneath the table, and his hand lies almost close enough to Meg’s to touch. So, too, Meg’s posture indicates relaxation rather than professionalism. While she in no way approaches Ray’s extremes, she makes no effort to stop her elbow rubbing against Fraser’s as they eat, and lets her hair fall over her shoulders rather than brushing it back. For his part, Fraser has his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. Previously, that would have felt far too much to reveal outside of his apartment, but now simply fits with the two of them.

Even as he reminds himself that he doesn’t have to avoid the touches, Fraser can’t stop wondering what they mean. Or rather, he knows what the signals mean. The part he can’t entirely work out is to whom they are directed. 

Meg’s soft smile over her wine glass seems to be for Fraser alone, but when she bickers with Ray, there’s something in the challenge of her gaze which makes it less an argument and more a prelude to… something else. The same is echoed in the bright glitter of Ray’s eyes, his fidgeting fingers, and it’s clear he’s more than ready to rise to whatever Meg wants. Just as Fraser thinks they’ve forgotten him though, one or other of them will turn to him and ask his opinion, voices softening and lowering so that he’s not only drawn into the conversation, but into the current between them, no less powerful for being intangible.

After the meal is over, Fraser rises to gather up the empty cartons, while Meg and Ray take charge of the dirty dishes. The too-small kitchen really doesn’t accommodate three, and Fraser knows which one of them takes up the most space. So he takes the rubbish out, stopping only briefly at the door to watch how Meg and Ray move around each other with ease now that he’s not there.

Outside, bags tossed in the dumpster, Fraser looks up at the few stars he can see. “What are you doing here?” he murmurs to himself. 

Then he shakes his head and lets out a short laugh, watching it freeze in the night air and then drift away. He’s here because Meg and Ray are here. He might not be sure what they think of him, but he damn well knows what he feels for them. Even if it turns out that they’re only interested because he connects the two of them, he can’t leave without knowing.

When he gets back up to Ray’s apartment, there’s music coming from inside, shadows moving across the strip of light that shines out from beneath the door. It opens when Fraser turns the handle though, and he slips inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as he opened it. That’s as far as he gets, because Meg and Ray are dancing together in the living room. Stock still where he stands, Fraser is torn between wanting to watch them all night, and wishing desperately that he was anywhere but here so he didn’t have to see this.

Before he can decide, they drift to a stop. Meg looks over at him with an expression that softens at whatever she sees. Raising her voice so he can hear it, she tells him, “I told Ray that you’d come back.”

Her calm confidence soothes Fraser’s nerves. He breathes again. Quietly, he admits, “I wasn’t sure if I should.”

Ray’s gaze joins Meg’s. The grin he sends Fraser is as relieved as it is happy, and offers Fraser as much reassurance as the verbal which follows. “You _definitely_ should.” 

When his hand leaves Meg’s waist to stretch out to Fraser though, Fraser hesitates.

“Fraser,” Meg says clearly. “You’re very welcome to join us.”

“I know,” Fraser says. He does, now. It’s just that… Flushing, he manages to get out, “Do you mind if I… watch? Just for a while? You two look...”

He trails off then, because in all honesty he doesn’t know how they look, hadn’t had time to categorise it in the moments before they’d stopped.

“Of course,” Meg says, while Ray adds, “Sure.”

As their heads turn back towards each other, Fraser leans back against the wall, and makes himself as inconspicuous as possible. Now that he knows he’s not to be excluded, and has been given permission to watch as openly as he desires, he has no desire to disturb them. 

They start moving, and almost immediately wipe away Fraser’s fears that his only place would be the glue between them. Fraser’s sure they’re hearing the music, because they’re moving perfectly in time with it, but their eyes, their hands, their steps are for each other only. The energy that earlier was used for bickering, they now channel into the dance, and it’s a challenge between them, but one they approach together, Ray’s hand firm around Meg’s waist, her own strong on his arms. 

Together they’re as stunning as they are apart, beauty enhanced in the contrasts: the shock of Ray’s blonde hair against the dark smoothness of Meg’s when he lowers his head; the curves of Meg’s body, in her formal blouse and pants, moving against Ray’s wiry frame within his t-shirt and jeans. The space between them is negligible, and not once do they stumble or fall. If Fraser had thought they looked natural together in the kitchen, now they are almost uninhibited.

It’s a pleasure he had not anticipated that he is trusted enough to observe them both like this. He only wishes he could see their faces, but they’re leaning in far too close for him to see anything other than the soft shadows cast by the lamplight.

The music stops then, and a disappointed sound is drawn from Fraser before he realises he’s opened his mouth. They both turn their heads towards him, and Fraser catches his breath. Suddenly he knows exactly what they look like; Meg’s eyes are dark and only half open, mouth curved slightly upwards in something that Fraser can only think of as ‘a smile with intent’, while Ray’s usual intensity is mixed with anticipation which shows itself in the way he’s not looking at Fraser straight on, but is instead glancing out from beneath his eyelashes. The two of them side-by-side present an image as tempting as it is overwhelming.

“Fraser,” Meg says, and then winces when Fraser barely stops himself from twitching away from the wall. “Ben?”

He hadn’t been objecting to the use of ‘Fraser’, was in fact simply startled at the change from observer to participant, but he nods anyway. “Ben is fine.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “‘Fine’, you say. You’re supposed to be more than fine, Ben. Get over here.”

They step apart, hands still linked. Now there’s a space for Fraser, but as much as he wants to step into it, he can’t help feeling that he’s inadequate to fill it.

“I can’t dance all that well,” he says, without moving from his corner. “Not as well as you two. Perhaps you should carry on without -”

With synchronised sighs, Meg and Ray let their hands fall apart, and cross the room to stand in front of Fraser. It’s only when they reach out to close their hands around his bare forearms that he realises he’s been standing with his arms crossed over his chest, holding himself, a poor substitute for the two of them. Swallowing, he lets them be unfolded, and himself be drawn away from the wall to join them in the middle of the room. There’s a softer track playing now, drifting quietly around them, at odds to the way Fraser’s heart is thumping in his chest.

“Ben,” Meg says, and draws his eyes to hers with a hand on his face. “Relax.”

“Dance with us,” Ray adds, slipping one hand down to close around Fraser’s. He squeezes, then lets go and pushes Fraser around to face Meg properly, while his hands come to rest on Fraser’s hips. Behind Fraser, he murmurs, “You two aren’t gonna revert to being all proper and Mountie-like, are you?”

It’s Fraser who answers, finally getting ahold of himself enough to give verbal confirmation that he does actually want to participate in this.

“No,” he decides, and reaches out for Meg. She steps closer without hesitation, slips one hand down to close around the back of his neck, and wraps the other arm around him so she can spread her hand out warm and strong against his back. Then she’s pressed against him from waist to chest, and Fraser shivers, can’t help holding her tighter, because having her in his arms, being in hers, feels so much better than he’d anticipated.

Meg strokes her thumb through the back of his hair, giving him a fond look when he tilts his head forwards for her. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that, no,” she agrees, looking over Fraser’s shoulder at Ray, and then back at him.

“Ray,” Fraser says, a shake to his voice, not sure if he’s demanding or asking, maybe both, because his back now feels as cold as his front is warm and that’s just wrong.

“I got you,” Ray says at once. Barely a moment later, he wraps himself around Fraser from behind, hands coming to rest on Fraser’s stomach, his heat soaking into Fraser from the back of his shoulders down to his ass, which Ray shows no more restraint covering with his body than any other part of Fraser. “ _We’ve_ got you,” Ray adds, right against Fraser’s ear this time, sending yet more shivers down his spine.

Fraser can see Meg’s eyes find Ray’s, then come back to his, and she nods as she confirms, “We have.”

So Fraser closes his eyes, breathes in, holds it, feels the pressure of Meg’s soft breasts in front of him, Ray’s hard chest behind him. Breathes out, feels them follow him in, keeping him between them, in the moment, with soft brushes of their fingers against his skin, against each other, checking in. He repeats, and so do they, until he’s calmed enough that he can hear the music again. Then he opens his eyes, and Meg’s smile meets him.

Behind him, Ray asks, “Better?”

“Yes,” Fraser replies.

Meg asks, “Dance with us?”

“I’d be honoured.”

There’s a quick laugh behind him, and Ray says, “Pleasure’s ours, Ben.”

“Indeed,” Meg agrees.

Fraser flushes, but then there’s gentle but sure pressure on him from two sets of hands and bodies, and it’s a much better use of his effort to move with them than it is to argue. He’s not entirely sure that what they’re doing can technically be called dancing, but there’s a rhythm, a fluidity, a purpose, that makes it feel that way. Beneath his hands, he can feel the shift of Meg’s muscles; against his back, he can sense Ray’s movements more keenly than at any moment prior to that in their partnership. No doubt they can feel the same in him, a connection between the three of them which is being used for the sole purpose of drawing them closer together.

At some point, Fraser stops thinking about it. Meg’s eyes keep dropping to his lips, Ray keeps nuzzling against his ear, and while the music is still playing, they’re not moving with it any more. Instead they’re shifting slowly against Fraser, Ray’s hands tugging gently at his shirt from the bottom, Meg’s fingers working at his tie and then the buttons behind it. She stops when he’s half unbuttoned, then lays her hands against his neck. Ray, having freed the shirt from Fraser’s waistband, gets his own hands beneath it, and also stops.

“How’s he look?” Ray enquires. Fraser shivers at the feel of lips just barely brushing against his ear, and angles his head back to try and chase the feeling. Laughing, Ray obliges with a quick lick, and then takes Fraser’s ear lobe gently between his teeth, making him groan softly.

“Impatient,” Meg supplies dryly, an assessment borne out by the way Fraser’s arms tighten around her waist, torn between keeping his head where it is for Ray, or pulling free so that he can kiss Meg. Ray makes the decision for him, letting Fraser’s ear go and then pressing his lips below, working his way down and over where Meg’s fingers lie, until he can nuzzle at the hollow of Fraser’s collarbone.

Fraser lets his head fall fowards again with a breathless plea, which is muffled moments later when Meg tugs at his neck and covers her mouth with his. With Meg’s tongue quick and sure in his mouth, Ray’s hot against his neck, and their fingers rubbing over his skin, apparently with the intention of driving every doubt from his mind, Fraser shakes between them, closes his eyes, and lets them lead him into the bedroom, where they want him, and where they guide him true as they always do.


End file.
